Casus Belli (Tygaran Alliance/Galactic Alliance vs First Order Rebellion of Kaeshana)

[Asharad Graush]

Citadel of Dawn.

Vyrassu's helmet came crashing down, threatening to concuss [member="Joza Perl"], and likely, knock her lights out. Instead of finding his reinforced helmet crashing through her skull, he was instead met with a light-shield, not unlike his own, pressing against his helmet. Not only was his helmet pressed against the shield, but shrapnel had also been launched in the direction of his helmet.

With his lightsabre having been directed to her midsection, and her arm intercepting it at that level before cleaving his lightsabre in two, it would mean her arm was still at that same level. Chances were her arm wasn't directly covering her face and it was closer to the edge of the shield protecting her. When the shrapnel supposedly came for his helmet, it pinged off his upper chest rather than his actual armour - he was, after all, relatively tall. Nevertheless, her lightsabre had disappeared almost as soon as his fingers wrapped around the beam. In the crushgaunts, there was a dim light, and his fingers clenched into each other. The first layers of duraplast and phrik were melted, and he could certainly feel the burning in his palm.

Pain is a necessity.

Through the Force, he let the pain fuel him, further feeding into his anger. Where the Zeltron had released a force push past him, it was at that point that he was aware of the presence of [member="Leo Vandermolen"]. Despite the golden lightsabre in his right hand having missed the second assailant, it made no difference to Vyrassu, for he had only found out that he existed a moment ago. By that time, his lightsabre was rising up from its parried position as he shuffled to the left and away from the return thrust sent by the Zeltron.

It scraped across his ribs, widening the hole already in his armour, which was all he needed. He took the strike openly, allowing his right elbow to come crashing down to her wrist, his knee suddenly surging up and into her wrist, with the intent of sandwiching it between the two powerful limbs, hopefully snapping the bones there and forcing her to drop the intruding lightsabre. Additionally, the crimson lightsabre was slashing at the Zeltron horizontally, threatening to take her entire arm off from right underneath the shoulder.

 

[Isla Ashen]

Satanissa, comm tower
With: [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Kaalia Voldaren"], [member="Arlen Rossi"]
Against: [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Elincia Alanis"], [member="Kaida Taldir"], [member="Aeda Shaytari"], [member="Six-O"], [member="Kiyron"], [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"], [member="Ghorumgash Khazund-Veranum"]

Despite the icy air that touched her face, Isla could feel the beads of sweat gathering on her brow. Now aided by Kaalia, the burden of holding the rooftop together was lessened. However, that was not to say it was easy – it was not. Even as she concentrated on wrapping her will around the structure, she could feel the effort of their opposition. The rooftop almost seemed to roll at times, threatening and coming close to breaking down beneath them.

Isla remained in her awkward position, curled next to the ledge. Her emerald orbs shifted slightly to see the sniper nearby firing off shots at the droid perched on the tower. There was a momentary lull in fire. The Knight of Ren eyed the man; he must have had some success disabling their shooter. In the short space of time it took to blink, the sniper’s sharp eyes instantly became dull and sightless beneath his helmet. She could only watch as his form slumped, what was left of his helmet stained red.

It was a grisly sight, and even Isla had to turn her gaze away.

The dark power of the force continued to flow through Isla and all around her. Isla felt the weight of the rooftop, how it wanted to give in and finally crumble to bits. A strained grunt escaped her as she continued to clench her fists, so hard that the palms of her hands were sore. Billowing black robes announced the arrival of Darth Veles. Isla looked up, surprised to see the motionless figure of Kira Vaal in his grasp. A moment later, she felt the power that the Mon Cal gave to their cause. She felt some of the weight lift, just enough to draw in a deep breath.

But then, a small shape soaring through the air caught her eyes. The device landed on the roof – a grenade of some kind, surely. This complicated their situation further.

Her eyes went wide, there was nothing she could do. Cold air began to catch in her throat, her attempt to call out to her allies stifled by a stab of panic. There were suddenly footsteps, and a blur of darkness as the only surviving sniper rushed away from the group. His arms were outstretched, almost like he was about to pull someone into an embrace. Isla’s teeth were grinding together now, her mind desperately attempting to stay focused, but caught off guard by the scene unfolding before her.

The man’s body was in the air briefly, and then came down overtop of the grenade. It took Isla a moment to piece these things together. He meant to sacrifice himself. She had seen men die before, she had cut down more than her share of enemies in her time. Isla’s heart was stony and usually unaffected by such things. But somehow, this was different. A shock of cold shot through her as the grenade discharged. Her eyes blinked at the sound, and the rain of blood that fell upon them. When she opened them again, the man was simply… gone.

With the effort of the three put together, they had protected the rooftop from severe damage. However, the area surrounding the red tinted snow where the grenade had gone off was weak. There was no time to let her thoughts linger on the nameless man that had died for them, but there was a strange ache in her chest.

“Rossi! We… can’t hold out… much longer!” She spoke urgently, sending her short communication to the FOSB agent.

 

[LT-137]

“Hell is empty, for all the Devils are here.”​

- William Shakespeare.​

​

https://youtu.be/-xfn3l8xZYw​

Location: Pirate Base - Nearby Asteroid Belt.
Allies: The First Order, Imprisoned Kaeshana Natives.
Enemies: Pirate Scum.
Primary Objective: Secure the Criminal Base.
Secondary Objective: Free the Xenos Slaves.
Tertiary Objective: Exfiltrate and Regroup with the Fleet.

​

Caked in the arterial spray of the righteously slain, painted russet-brown by the flickering lumen strips above, Torian cautiously advanced through the fluted bowels of the void-bound complex. His rifle scanned the encroaching darkness, seeking veiled threats that never materialized. Bereft of his helmet, the task was admittedly more tedious, as the soldier was forced to halt his stride and double check his surroundings. It wouldn’t do for him, the sole survivor of his squad, to be laid flat by rushing into the fray. That was a game for more youthful men, who cared more about earning glory than living from one moment to the next, and who were just as easily replaceable. This game of cat and mouse, played by the Stormtrooper and the ghostly echoes of those that had perished long before, had continued for what seemed like hours. He played it willingly until the goal was reached and the Bakuran stood before the sealed metallic door. The housing was rusted, and the inset windows were rimed with a thin layer of frost. That wasn’t a good sign. The exterior hallway was bearable by pirate standards, but seeing the small particles of ice latched to the thinnest portion of the door? While there a dozen possibilities as to what that meant, by his experience alone, none of them would bode well for those within the chamber.

Shouldering his Charric once more and taking aim at the sealed hatch, the Stormtrooper opened fire; shattering the silence with the percussive blast of stimulated radiation. Coruscating arcs of lightning rippled across the armoured portal, tracing errant lines along its oxidized surface. He fired again, and again, forcing more torrents of vibrant energy to tear athwart the door. Its surface began to brighten as the thermal radiation antagonized the hardened molecular structure, turning from a lusterless Crimson to a radiant orange. One brilliant sapphire bolt more, and the door’s parted with a screech of inhuman rage slamming back into their respective housing to reveal the darkened chamber beyond. Frigid air rushed through the void, sending a foreboding chill down the Stormtrooper’s back. Pausing to allow the blanket of silence return, as his rifle traced along the edges of the newly opened portal, the Bakuran slowly edged himself forward; keeping his weapon primed and ready for whatever lay beyond. Flickering embers of light pooled around his feet but denied his eyes the pleasure of their embrace. His floodlight attachment did little but banish the oppressive shadows with a cone of illumination, scattering the gloom with every pass - but permitted its return once the beam had moved on.

The Soldier had half expected a horde of nearly-frozen corpses to stand erect in greeting, as the room was denied the thermal warmth of activated atmospherics. Instead, there was nothing more than towering shipping containers crammed together and affixed with an enabled device that pulsated softly in the hushed shadows. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Torian could see that there several of these devices attached to the container’s exterior. What were they for? He wondered. Casting a wary eye upon his darkened surroundings, the Stormtrooper slowly stalked through the cargo hold towards the nearest contraption. Once it was within his grasp, the Bakuran raised a cautious hand and hovered over its surface. He had never seen anything like it. A part of him wished to touch the apparatus, to explore it’s every nuanced curve with inquisitive fingers. That very idea was crushed under the heels of his instinct, as a chill of premonition fluttered through his stomach. What would happen if this near-silent machine had been an explosive device, meant to act as a baited trap for any would-be aggressors? Well, he mused, at least I won’t be around to live this mistake down. Pulling back from the side of the container and moving towards the front, Torian’s mind began to spin with possibilities. He had to know what was inside. Upon reaching the front and seeing an access terminal, the Stormtrooper set about unlocking the hatches - by slapping his gauntlet atop the keypad and dancing his fingers across the keys.

With the sound of pneumatic hisses permeating the silence, utterly shattering the hushed ambiance by increasing octaves, Torian stepped back from the retracting door and raised his Charric in preparation. If he were to die, it’d be on his terms with a weapon in his - His eyes widened in surprise as the doors had finally halted on their trundling tracks. Bodies. People, frozen in time and bound to the container’s interior. No, they weren’t People. Not Human. They were Eldorai. Elfkind. Knife-ears. After the shock had filtered through his system, the Stormtrooper swept his weapon across the inside of the massive metallic box. No active threats. Slinging his rifle across his blood-stained breastplate and moving to the first incarcerated body, Torian felt his limbs become sluggish - as if time itself had decided to fight against his advance. It was there and then that the gears had clicked into place. The device slapped on the container’s exterior was a stasis field generator. Typically, such a machine would be used to keep fresh foodstuffs and water aboard a cargo ship from spoiling during the lengthy transit between worlds. Here? It was adapted to keep these Alien wretches alive until they had reached their destination - without forcing their captors to shoulder the burden of caring for them with precious rations and soiled buckets.

“Smart,” The Stormtrooper said aloud as he moved back towards the external thrumming generator. “Time to break their toys.”

This time, without hesitation, Torian lifted the stock of his rifle into the air and brought it down to the device, hammering it from the surface of the shipping container. While, in the darkest depths of his mind, the Soldier had wanted to leave those filthy Xenos slaves trapped within their stasis prison, he knew better. His orders were to save these misbegotten people, and until that changed - the Stormtrooper would obey. That being said, he relished the thought of smashing the generators from every container and leaving them to rot within the darkest depths of the void. It would be no different than what half of their people had done already; the Soldier said internally as he stalked back towards the entrance, they were left to scrape a life of insignificance off their barren homeworld - so a lifetime of slavery would be a better fate than they deserved. They should’ve been thankful for their saviors troubling themselves with this harvest, yet as time stretched back to normal - he could see the anguish laid bare across their features. Apparently, they fervently believed that those Exodites from their birth world would return and take them to the promised land once they returned. Shame it wasn’t until the First Order had come that such a future would, and if not could, be a possibility.

They began screaming as their doe-like eyes turned towards the bath-bathed soldier in their midst, and the dark - primal nature that burned within Torian’s breast forced his lips into a savage snarl. He enjoyed their torment. However, such thoughts of petulant joy would have to be put aside for the task at hand. As much as it chafed his pride, the Stormtrooper had come to save these Alien Wretches. And so, after quenching the fires of xenophobic rage broiling within his breast, he set about freeing them from the multitude of shackles binding them to the wall. Several ear-splitting moments had passed before the dozen, or so Slaves were set free. He tried not to count how many there were - as the temptation to slaughter them like cattle slowly rose with every beat of his ursine heart.

“Go,” Torian had said, doing whatever he could to smother the lingering traces of his enjoyment. “Help me free the others, and I’ll get you off this accursed vessel."

_____________________________________________________________________________​

Interlude.​

The Pax Imperious was a Resurgent-class Battlecruiser that had once sailed the stars in a bygone era, one shrouded in myths and legend. It had sailed the stars under the first to bear the name of the Order and brought ruin to seventeen worlds in the Unknown regions after the cataclysmic annihilation of the Hosnian System. Now, the spear of crenelated intent, forged of black iron, hung high above the irradiated world of Kaeshana. It’s weapon batteries were primed for war, and it’s shield's flickered as the ancient, but overhauled capacitors forced the barrier to cycle through its protective sheath.

Standing atop the command trench of the ancient vessel’s bridge, with his arms folded neatly behind his back, Captain Achim Veers stared out into the darkness of the bespeckled void and watched the planet below wistfully spin upon its axis. How had it come to this? He wondered. All of this senseless bloodshed over a worthless world, and the cretins that dared to call it home. Though he was chastised for his extreme stance on the matter, the Captain was confident that the alternative approach would’ve ended this conflict without a single drop of precious Imperial blood. The surface would’ve been bathed in atomic fire, mimicking the horrors brought about by the event that many within the galaxy had begun to call “Netherworld.” The inhuman populace of this benighted world would’ve seen their end coming, as a hellish storm of cascading emerald lightning bombarded the surface - turning it to glass.

However, such a fate would not fall the world of Kaeshana this day. They had not come here with the intent to fight, and until the Pirate’s had arrived to force their hand - nor would they. Now caught between an Alliance armada and a battle of escalation upon the surface, where reportedly Gods and Monsters dueled against the rank and file of the Imperial Army? This was madness.

“Captain!” A voice had bellowed from the depths of the command deck, drawing Achim forth from his frustrated musings. He blinked once but refused to turn his attention towards the source of the disruption. This was an Imperial Warship. The man that called out for his attention knew better than to shout across the din of muttering voices to garner his Commanding officer’s gaze. “Captain!” The voice called out again, this time sounding much - much closer. It wasn’t until the third time that his rank was called, that Achim dared to tear his gaze away from the planet and stare at the reflection painted atop the glasteel viewport.

“Yes?” He said, allowing every ounce of his venomous irritation to pour out into a single word.

“Our Order’s from High Command were to engage any ships that sought to break the blockade, Sir, the Gunnery Crew wanted to know why you belayed that Order?”

Achim smiled.

“The answer is simple,” Turning away from the viewport and allowing his eyes to bore into the emerald orbs of his subordinate; the Captain stepped forward - keeping himself imperiously poised despite the accumulating rage burning brightly within his chest. “It’s easier to shoot fish in a barrel with a scattergun than it is to consign precious ammunition to the void in the hopes of striking nimble targets.”

The Junior Officer raised a quizzical brow, apparently confused by the analogy. Clenching his fists to keep himself from striking his Subordinate down from whence he stood, the Captain allowed a moment of silence to pass before he finally relented.

“In terms, a Child could understand,” He said with a heavy sigh trailing his words. “When they deploy thousands of Soldiers to fight in the dirt, it’s easy to raise the magnifying glass towards the Sun and set them ablaze with ease.”

Seeing the acknowledgment and understanding play across the Officer’s features, Achim felt a small measure of relief wash through his tensed nerves. Perhaps there was some hope for this incompetent fool after all. As the man lifted his arm to salute, Captain Veers snapped his clasped hand forward and caught the rising arm before the gesture could be completed. “While I’m glad that you were able to understand my reasoning for permitting these Alliance Dogs to begin their landings, You are an Officer of the First Order and apart of my Bridge Crew.” His eyes began to narrow into serpentine slits, followed swiftly thereafter by the menacing timbre of his authority given life through his clenched teeth. “If you ever shout at me from across my Command Deck ever again, I will shoot you myself.” He paused to collect himself, releasing the, now, terrified Officer’s arm. “Is that understood?”

The man stammered his reply, and offered a shaky salute, before returning to his duties.

“Much better,” Achim said with a smile tracing his words. As his eyes fell back towards the planetary system below, the man made an attempt to return to his earlier line of thought, but alas - another interruption had denied his the petulant pleasure. This time it was his Executive Officer, holding a tactical readout from the display safely hidden behind various terminals at the rear of the bridge. His eyes scanned over the document, scrolling through its contents and absorbing the data with relative ease. Large numbers of Alliance troops had made their way planetside, unmolested, as planned. There were several other worrying factors that he had noted, some bordering upon the unbelievable - but when simple men and women seek to fight those that perceive themselves as Gods - such things as belief and even sanity were to be cast aside for supposedly greater things. It was a shame they had become victims of their own hubris. One day, when the Galaxy had the wool pulled from its eyes, they would see what Monsters their so-called protectors had become. One day they would rise against those that claimed Mastery over reality itself and force them into submission - either by the bolt or by the blade.

Violence was the only thing these wretches had understood, and thus - by the will of the Grand Moff - they would see that mortal men and women could do the impossible, and by their deeds, they would become mighty.

“Splendid,” Achim said as he handed the crystalline data slate back to his Executive Officer. “Fire the Probe Droids into the Seventh, Tenth, and Fourteenth Grid accolations. I want reliable sighters on the ground.” The man nodded curtly as he accepted the device from his Commander. Before he had a chance to turn away, the Captain drew his comrade’s gaze as he continued with his seemingly endless Order. “Our Fighters have been waiting for the opportunity to proceed planetside, now that the enemy has gathered sufficient strength to challenge us, perhaps it’s time to let the One-hundred and Eighty-First Fighter Wing loose. I have no doubt they’re baying for blood as we speak.”

“Oh,” Achim said as his Executive Officer turned and began walking away. “Make sure to tell an Ensign to bring me some Recaf; I’ve been dying for some of our Mess Hall’s roast.”

____________________________________________________________________​

Interlude ii​

They had been waiting in High Orbit for what seemed like ages, watching as enemy craft blew past the blockade and disgorged their soldiers planetside. They weren’t friendly craft, but hostile one’s that would’ve been easily intercepted by the Pilots of the 181st Fighter Wing. Surprise, Surprise, the Captain of the Pax Imperious had seen fit to withhold the Hotshot pilots and their various Starfighters in their loading cradles, ready to launch at a moment’s notice but denied the chance to soar amongst the heavens. Captain Iago raged within the confines of his overhauled voidcraft, slinging ceaseless expletives in various connotations and even went so far as to insult his Second-in-command by mentioning his Mother in ghastly poses. He wanted to fly! His body cried out for him to act, act, ACT! And yet - here he was, languishing in a prison of his own design. Oh how that chafed the nerves raw. Then, at long last, the Order to mobilize had come. Feeling the fire from before surge through his veins, energizing him with purpose, Iago began the pre-flight startup sequence on his TIE Predator. Flicking his finger across the terminal and keying in his command codes, the Captain felt the electric thrill of activation thrum through the entirety of his Fighter.

Unseen, the muted roar of engines echoed throughout the deployment hangar as Seventy-One Starfighters, ranging from Space Superiority Fighters, Interceptors and Bombers followed their Captain’s suit. It deafened those that braved the Hangar deck without aural dampeners, and forced several members of the ground crew to their knees as the surprise call to action had caught them off-guard. From there, the Six Squadrons of Starfighters rose from their deployment cradles or fell from their overhead racks, before spilling out into the curtain of infinite black and swarming by flight towards the planet below.

_____________________________________________________________​

Location: Pirate Base - Nearby Asteroid Belt.
Allies: The First Order, Imprisoned Kaeshana Natives.
Enemies: Pirate Scum.
Primary Objective: Secure the Criminal Base. [ In Progress. ]
Secondary Objective: Free the Xenos Slaves. [ Complete. ]
Tertiary Objective: Exfiltrate and Regroup with the Fleet. [ In Progress. ]

Fighting the urge to deny the Eldorai female the support his embrace would bring, as his fingers unclasped the last restraint from the Alien’s wrists, Torian permitted the creature to fall ever so gracefully into his arms. It was there that he cradled her weak, and ailing form as he lowered her to the deck. Again, the urge to drop her came to the fore but was swiftly quashed as the female braced herself against the grated floor. No longer in need of his benevolent assistance, the Stormtrooper withdrew from the final container and returned to the heart of the cargo hold. He was surrounded by nearly two hundred Eldorai slaves, harvested from their irradiated homeworld and press-ganged into service. He could only imagine what horrors their ‘generous’ captors had seen fit to inflict. Then again, it would be horrible if they were of Human stock. Since they weren’t? Well. Torian couldn’t care less. They were nothing more than Xenos Scum, and had he been able to have his way - He would’ve used his Charric to liquefy the entire Cargo Hold while they were held in stasis.

Sadly, that would never come to pass. Instead, ensuring his rifle was still slung around his back, the Stormtrooper beckoned those before him to be silent with an uplifted fist. While the hushed whisperings fell silent, more in part to the utter confusion displayed by the formerly incarcerated, rather than any lick of discipline, Torian found himself thankful that they understood the most basic tenants of body language. Thus, as they quieted, the Bakuran filled the void with his own booming - raspy voice.

“There are more crates of your kind still aboard this base,” He began, as his eyes swam across the gathering, hopeful that he had their meager attentions for the moment. “My Squad perished to free you from your stasis prisons. I can’t scour this entire base to free them all. I’d like for you to break into smaller groups and search for your loved ones and fellows.”

One of the spindly creatures walked forward, his stride atrophied and unsteady. Torian’s imperious gaze fell upon the Venerable Eldorai as the vile Xenos-breed had approached his person. Emerald orbs devoured the details of his pacing, seeing how his hips swayed from side to side with an ethereal gait, and how his shoulders sagged with subtle hints of age. The creature was not a threat, but it never hurt to entertain the possibility. The blade that slips into the back is often held by those that one least expects. As the foul Xenos came close, it’s back arched so that it was on equal footing with the helmetless Stormtrooper. The sight of the inhuman intellect burning brightly behind those seemingly lifeless spheres had set his humors aflame. How dare this… thing… consider itself his equal.

He wrestled with the rising tide of anger flowing through his veins, fighting to keep the beast caged within his breast.

“Why,” The creature croaked, as its lips parted with inhuman grace. “Should we listen to you? Yes, you freed us,” It swept its arms wide, fanning across the gathering that followed in his ragged footsteps.”But those that come preaching salvation are often seeking to disguise their tyranny.”

Torian felt his lips peel backward into a serpentine approximation of a smile.

“You think we want to oppress you? If we did, I would’ve left you in those crates. We would’ve brainwashed you into service and dumped you on some backwater world to sing praises about how benevolent the Order is to you and yours.” The bars began to slacken, and he could feel the snarling beast press against the cage. “No, you ungrateful bastard, the First Order came to this world to undo the cruel hand fate dealt.”

Taken aback by the blunt nature of the Stormtrooper’s almost bestial tone, the venerable Eldorai took a step backward and sought to defend his wretched frame by casting his arms about his chest.

“My apologies,” Torian stated through gritted teeth. “I’m a Soldier, not a diplomat.”

It was then, that the loose gathering of former Slaves had followed in their Elder’s footsteps, and began slinking towards the back of the room. Raising a confused brow, Torian turned about to see what caused them to act in such a manner. As the door had come into view, and out of the corner of his eye he might add, the Stormtrooper saw his analog standing with nothing more than a silhouette… and a rifle leveled at his unarmoured head.

“Gideon Raith…”

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Location: Santassia Comm Tower
Enemy: [member="Darth Veles"] | [member="Isla Ashen"]
Ally: [member="Kira Vaal"] | [member="Six-O"]

The blackness resolved into a hazy world full of pain and choking dust. Breath surged into Korr's lungs in a gasping rush. He gagged on the thick particulates of pulverized permacrete clogging his throat while he got to his feet. Bleary-eyed, he stumbled forward toward some destination.

He did not remember why or what the destination was, only that he had to reach it. Something wet dripped into his eye, he smeared it away with a dust-caked hand. The liquid stuck to his hand. He grimaced, jaw clenching so hard it almost hurt.

A set of stairs came into vision. Korr moved up them, or maybe it was down. The world still spun, like a wobbling top, and he had to clutch the wall for support, or the floor. He couldn't tell. The urge to be somewhere dragged him on relentlessly and he felt caught in a rip current.

Daylight burned his eyes, or maybe that was the cold whip of icy wind.

All at once, he knew he had reached it.

Maybe it was the sensation of finality, or maybe it was the fact that a Mon Cal reeking of the dark side stood just in front of him, a body slung over his shoulder.

"Stop," Korr said, voice raw and ragged. He drew on the Force to steady himself, his thoughts. Clarity began to come back, a trickle turning to a flood. "Put the girl down."

 

[Arlen Rossi]

Location: Santaissa, Near Comm Tower
Objective: Rescue, Withdrawl
Allies: First Order [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Kaalia Voldaren"], [member="Isla Ashen"]
Enemies: Galactic Alliance[member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Elincia Alanis"], [member="Kaida Taldir"], [member="Aeda Shaytari"], [member="Six-O"], [member="Kiyron"], [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"], [member="Ghorumgash Khazund-Veranum"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5oVw4uN5fM​

Ashen was screaming at her for the transports, but there wasn't much Arlen could do but yell up the chain to see what the hold up was, whilst half focused on managing the withdrawal from her rear position. It was a tricky thing, if she held them off from pulling out for too long, then they would eventually be overrun by the opposing forces being led by multiple adepts, but if they moved too soon, then they risked being followed right out of the killbox before the attack. As it stood now, her troops had sustained heavy casualties already (43), either dead or unfit to fight with injuries.

"Mammoth belay my last order. Hold fire until my command."

"Specter to Garuda, what's the fething hold up?"

"I'm sorry Specter, but we've been having comm issues related to our servers crashing, but we're working around it now. Two ships as promised, coming your way. Connecting you to Chopper flight lead now."

"Chopper 1 to Specter, how do you read?"

"Loud and clear, Chopper 1. I have my VIPs stuck on to building under attack. It's going to be hard for them to move, but I don't want you coming in whilst the area is rife with hostile adepts. They're already giving my troop a good mauling and I don't need you going down too."

"We're equipped for CSAR, so we can pick them up by tractor beams. We just need them to get clear of immediate danger."

It was risky, to say the least. She was getting reports of hostile adepts near the tower chucking or redirecting all sorts of energy and projectiles. They would need to first be put on the defensive to do anything, but that was still a big gamble.

Alliance forces seemed fixated on Ashen and crew at the moment, she could literally feel it. She could use it that to her advantage.

"Chopper 1, just loiter once you get here while I give my VIPs some breathing room."

"Roger that, we'll be on station in a minute."

"Saber 5, 6, I want you in the city now, I have a job for you."

Unhindered by the need to escort infantry, the two fighter tanks flew right through the city for Arlen's position as fast as they could traverse through the ruins. It wouldn't take them long to get there.

"Ashen, your ride is coming, but I'll need you all to get some separation for pickup. I'll give you some cover. Come towards me."

"Reapers, let loose on ground forces, their big hitters appear to be near the tower. Watch your altitude, though. Mammoth is ready to go."

Half the squadron maintained their elevated position to continue running interdiction while the rest began to make strafing runs at the forces with laser and ion fire at distance, walked onto troop masses and vehicles near the tower, guided by forward observers and drones.

"Joker Company, status of withdrawal?"

"Ma'am," Captain Vasquez started, "We're ready to peel out at any time." There was some strain to the end of his words as he clearly wished to be released of the craziness going on at the tower right now. She felt for him and the rest, but they still had a job to do.

"Not much longer, now, Captain."

True to their word, Chopper did appear. Even through the whiteout of the blizzard, she could make the two Lambda out with her visor as they passed high above her head.

"Chopper 1 and 2, now on station."

"Loiter like I said, do what you need to do to defend yourselves."

The transports were here, it was time to stop sitting around looking pretty. She had been still so long that her bike now had a light dusting of snow. With a squeeze on the handles, she sped forth toward her fellow operatives to finally join the fray.

--------------​

[Garuda]

It hadn't been lost upon Colonel Grisham how enemy forces continued to pour into the city for the Alliance when there had previously been moderate resistance at best. Now there were word of Jedi sightings and other hostile Force Adepts at or around the tower. Things were heating up, in either a good or bad way depending on your position in the fight. For the Colonel, she found it a convenience that her enemies would finally reveal themselves so easily.

An FOSB spook had a fire mission prepared to level everything within the tower killbox, but Grisham still started checking around for assets to throw at Santaissa to through at the city in case a followup was required. If any more reinforcements started appearing by ground or air, then it was quite likely.

 

[Hansen]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HASoVthU14U​

((OOC: "I was born lucky sir, I'm a Stormtrooper." FN-888))​

FN-888 "Helden"
Kaeshana Southern Hemisphere, IM-455 Modular Garrison "Fenrik".

"Line up the prisoner!" Joan demands, with the winds of Kaeshana whipping against the Stormtroopers. Machine pushes Gerlon against the ferrocrete wall of the garrison and he faces the Stormtroopers with a black blindfold over his hazel eyes. Greaser stands to Joan's right and keeps his F-11D focused on Gerlon. Machine takes a few paces back and puts the unarmed prisoner in crosshair. "Got the bag ready, Greaser?" The question is cryptic, using First Order military slang for the ominous, fire retardant and water-proof man-sized capsule.

"Yes Ma'am." Greaser replies and shoulder the stock extended F-11D, the blindfolded man visibly starts to shake and the Stormtrooper feels a passing pity for the Firemane contractor. This was one morning he shouldn't have gone in for.

Joan pulls out a white Blaster Pistol and brings it up, the pair of blue eyes find the physical ironsight and peer down it to find Gerlon Atar standing defiant yet his resolve shakes like body. "Come on, focus. It's not that hard." Joan's voice whispers in the confines of her own helmet, the sweat off palm heats glove to a temperature unbearable. Hearts leaps up into the throat and Joan feels beads of sweat roll down cheeks. Is this wrong, is this right? And then her thoughts turn to Lightning as she held him within the slit trench earlier and how Firemane contractors had been responsible. Their actions sealed this poor mans' fate for Joan in her ruthlessness does not care for any family or friends he will leave behind.

"Get on your knees!" Joan demands and earns even her Stormtroopers a shocked glance, this wasn't regulation this is more....It is revenge and the two Troopers quickly understand that. Machine happily refocuses his crosshair onto the prisoner though Greaser hesitates, and then bites his tongue. Deciding it isn't appropriate to question a superior, especially a Commissioned Officer and one he had known for as long as his memory stretched.

Gerlon drops onto his tremoring knees and turns face upwards in the direction of Stormtrooper Officer's face. "Gloat all you want Buckethead! I hope you choke on it. And even if you don't, the Galactic Alliance are going to win this war then you will learn what it is like to be at the mercy of others." Gerlon calms himself and offers up a threat to Joan: It will prove to be his last.

The threat is heard and Joan tightens grip around blaster pistol with both hands. Its ironsight lowers down in a line with Gerlon's forehead. With a fierce scowl on pallor beneath visor Joan speaks up. "We may never know, I intend to win this war." Lungs cease beating as does heart, trigger cracks back against the receiver and a bright red bolt lances through the kneeling man's skull whistling out the back in a stream of Ichor mixed blood and smacks against the ferrocrete wall staining it crimson. Gerlon's limp body slumps forward with wrists cutting into the metal binders behind his back. Joan's eyes look over the vanquished foe with nought satisfaction or regret coming over her.

Blaster pistol finds itself being slotted into holster and Joan gestures to the body with left hand. "Take the binders and fold off, put him in the bag." Heaving out a sigh towards the sky and rubbing the back of neck seal in frustration. "We'll carry him inside and dispose of him in the garrison incinerator." The Two Stormtroopers heave the man into the open khaki coloured bag before zipping it up, Machine looks upto Joan. She meant to dump the body where the trash went, a silent statement of sorts for the two Stormtroopers; Criminals and Mercenaries who opposed them are refuse and would be disposed of as such. "I'll notify a cleaning crew and have the swabs clean up after us." Joan is followed back into the Garrison by the two Stormtroopers carrying the body, airlocks seals behind them and the Lieutenant makes a mental note to go and record the sentence on Deadeye's report.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Location: North side of the Citadel of Dawn and moving south
Objective: Liberation and securing of Santaissa

Allies: [member="Tempest"] | [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="HK-36"] | [member="Six-O"] | [member="Aeron Kreelan"] | [member="Nima Tann"] | [member="Sed Frieder"] | [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"]

Enemies: [member="FN-888"] | [member="Garett Van"]
--

The Jedi Master stood tall and stalwart next to the, relatively, small Prex.

His right leg was pulsing, pain shooting up and down, but it was ignored. The burns were humming at him, but they too were ignored. His hand rested easily on her shoulder as he looked over to the further in-roads of the Dawn Fortress. Such a crude and ugly building. So much death, destruction for this piece of work. How much had he killed, how much had Aeron killed?

How much more would they kill to wipe the First Order off the Galaxy?

"I got you." His tone was level, patient, but there was an edge to it. Blue radiated away from him and surrounded them. The energy expanded and would protect them from what was to come.

This was better.

Protect, not kill. But sometimes a man needed to bloody his hands, didn't he? Protect by killing. Because the other side had no qualms throwing meat into the grinder, until they were worn down. They couldn't just lay down their head and let them do as they pleased. Not now, not ever. That's when evil wins, when good people with the power to change things... rested and let evil do as it wanted.

"They are done here."

More resolute now. Sardun would see it through.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Post #: 11[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Location: Santaissa Ruins.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Objective: Crush Resistance, Not be Brutally Murdered[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Allies: First Order and Friends, none directly involved.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Enemies: [member="Six-O"], Galactic Alliance and Friends, none other than Six-O directly involved.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Forces: 26 Stormtroopers (27 incl Pharazon). [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Equipment: Standard Stormtrooper Equipment. [/SIZE]
Specific links for standard Stormtrooper support equipment

• X2 FWMB-10 repeating blasters.
• X1 D-93 Incinerator flamethrower

[SIZE=14.6667px]The two giants clashed amid the mud and the blood, bodies and weapons meeting in colossal smashes as each attempted to murder the other. Both knew that something had to give soon, the battle was frenetic and visceral, death surrounded them, pain drove them, and power sustained them. Pharazon kept fighting, giving all of his energy to stay on his feet and counter and attack the huge alien, but he knew his time was growing short.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He was massive, he was powerful, but he was bleeding, he was dying. He charged and thrust at the Klatoonian, swung his rifle in savage arcs, delivered brutal punches, and shot at the fiend. Numerous times he was swept away from the Slaver, forced to face more capable Alliance backed rebels. He stabbed and slashed, blasted and bludgeoned any and all Eldorai that stood before him and Xerryzk.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Blood flowed from his open wounds in his abdomen, upper right torso, left arm. Burning pain threatened to debilitate him as he and his brave Stormtroopers fought on from his left hand and newly cut wound under his right eye. He could see his men, see them fighting with everything they had. They fought shoulder to shoulder, refusing to abandon the men who would be their brothers even as the fighting had descended into near free for all savagery and barbarism. He saw one drag a fellow soldier back onto his feet after he had nearly been crushed beneath the swirling and horrific mass of bodies both alive and dead in the melee. They were covered in mud and blood, Eldorai and Imperial alike were drowning and being drowned in mud and blood if they had lost their helmets.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon saw in his peripheral vision while bludgeoning a large Eldorai into pulp the savagery of Xerrzyk once again. He heard his desperate plaintive cries for his mother, and then heard them silenced. The mutilated Stormtrooper fell, Pharazon could not tell if he was dead, but he knew he would soon be if he did nothing.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Mustering the last of his courage, hate, and energy he crashed his way through the Eldorai toward the Slaver once more. Death was in his eyes as they clashed again and again. But it was not enough.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon stumbled and grappled as he attempted to overpower his foe, but he was too much. Pharazon was massively strong and imposingly large, but so was Xerrzyk. He was brutally efficient in his savagery, born of the horror of the outer rim and the strength of his xenos blood. Pharazon was relentless, using his full power and weight that remained to him after losing so much blood, but he knew this was likely to be the end. He was slashed by the alien’s wicked blade, blade digging into the upper joint of his right leg. His right arm was nearly dislocated and shattered in their final confrontation. The xenos kicked his wounded right leg out from under him, he finally lost his balance and collapsed to one knee.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He refused to die on his knees, he raised himself and looked the colossal alien in the eye and prepared to sell his final moments dearly, he could feel the Eldorai breaking, even if he must fall they could survive. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Sandalphon can lead them to safety, link up with Cain… Sandalphon… Cain...[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The intersection then exploded, a massive concussive blast tore through Eldorai and Imperial alike. Even the great Pharazon and Xerrzyk were sent sprawling.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Moments ago…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Sandalphon moved as if in slow motion, bolter rounds tearing into the duracrete around him in a desperate attempt to stop him. He was close, so close to his goal and the salvation of his comrades from the unrelenting exploding rain of the speeder.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He cross the final few metres, slid to slow his speed, brought his left arm back and… His left leg was blown out from underneath him.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Sandalphon slammed into the pavement as he fell into the puddle that was his left leg. But he could no longer be stopped. His body was pumped so full of adrenaline he kept crawling toward the speeder under a hail of explosive fire. He arched his back, and let fly with the explosive satchel. It flew straight and true, landing right in the gun bed of the speeder. The crew saw it and tried to run, but it was too late and the speeder, its crew, and most of the surrounding ruins were atomised by the explosion. Sandalphon was spared the explosion but would die unless seen too soon. His armour blackened, his body shattered, Sandalphon looked back to the now subdued battle one last time, and then fell into unconsciousness.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]From the South[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Sergeant Cain and his men rushed through the tight and sprawling ruins, rapidly closing in on the location of 4th Platoon as they followed Pharazon’s orders and came in from the south to carry out his plan.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]They had heard the explosion and picked up their pace, Cain keeping his men disciplined and organised, Pharazon would not need more disorganised troopers. If they were to break them out of their fight they would need to be a spear point, hard and sharp, but also precise.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]They tore around the corner, they could see the battle site, the savagery, the blood, and the white armoured bodies. They advanced up the southern road, they ran until they were around 30 metres out, took up swift positions and began to gun down the rebels as they tried to get back on their feet with mercilessly accurate blaster bolts. They were silent as they fired, they showed no rage, no pain, no grief, and yet inside their helmets their facial expressions exposed all of these in terrifyingly silent detail. They dared not throw detonators, but they did not need too as their enemies were dazed and confused. Cain, disciplined soldier that he was still felt sick whenever he had to kill. Killing these Eldorai in particular made his entire body go cold and numb in guilt, save for his stomach which was tossing and turning in a grand effort to escape its anatomical prison. But he fired again and again watching smoke from blaster wounds fill the air and noting his helmet sensors attempting to block out the pungent smells of battle.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Inside the Intersection[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The flash, the feeling of being thrown to the ground, blood leaking from his armour in too many places. Pharazon could feel all of his wounds so clearly and acutely.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]So this is how I die… I am so sorry my dearest, Elenthyia, that I will not be able to send mother and the Satinar to the abyss before me Pharazon thought, feeling his life edge closer to oblivion.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Then he heard the blasters, and a horrifically garbled communication from Cain over his helmet’s damaged systems. He looked up, he saw the rebels being gunned down before they could get back to their feet as his Stormtroopers were also doing after the concussive blast. He then saw the massive alien begin to rise and knew he only had one last chance to save himself and lead his men to an unlikely victory.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Disengage… and form ranks, pen them in with blaster fire” Pharazon yelled hoarsely, voice cracking and coughing as he spoke.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Then he felt it, a spark, a spark that turned into an inferno within him coalescing around the memory of his sister. The memory of his rage toward Hapes, the memory of that Stormtrooper moments ago losing his eye…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon lunged at the staggered Xerrzyk forgetting his pain and his injuries and they colliaded with a savage crunch, Pharazon plunging his bayonet into Xerrzyk’s stomach before he could realise what was happening. Pharazon crashed into the alien and slammed him into the duracrete, slamming him back and forth into the ground, his hands like vices of phrik, fire running through his veins as he was completely consumed by his wroth. Smashing the alien’s arms aside Pharazon straddled his prone chest, his fists rose and fell like a fearsome lightning storm, the hammer’s of humanity smashing into the alien’s head again, again, and again. Blood coated his hands and splattered his helmet, he lost track of time and all other thoughts save those of death.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Blaster bolts swirled around him as his men mowed down and burnt the surviving rebels, tens, dozens, even potentially over a hundred new corpses were sent smoldering to the ground, expressions of horror sealed to their faces. Cain and the rest of 4th Platoon showed no mercy to the staggered and ambushed rebels, but neither did the Eldorai ask for it. They were either killed before they could or flung themselves in a desperate last attempt to slay the infidel invaders. Alas for the rebels it was too late for them, the Stormtroopers could form up and recover faster than they, and so they were slaughtered from both sides of the intersection, some tried to flee in the two other directions, but none got far. The intersection was awash with brilliant ruby flashes and plumes of smoke from blaster wounds, it combined with the screams and roars of the killers and the dying, the last act of this intersection's symphony of death. He could not say how long he beat the alien, but he eventually slowed, burst of energy and clarity gone and collapsed to the side of the alien.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Several minutes later, Pharazon arose. The intersection was quiet and smoke filled, the battle was over but the sounds of death and injury still punctuated the relative quiet. He surveyed the massive Klatooinian, Pharazon could not tell if he was dead, he looked dead but one could never be certain with great and powerful xenos such as Xerrzyk, especially given the capabilities of this alien. If he was not dead, he was not far off of it. Pharazon retrieved his rifle, beholding in a brief moment of shock that he had broken off his bayonet inside of the monster’s stomach How did I do this… [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon thought, disturbed. He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he and his men were still in trouble.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He did retrieve the monster’s blade and Cylix pistol, best not to leave those to any other Eldorai rats that may come across the battlefield.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon then took stock of the field, the visage was beyond horrific. Dozens if not well over a hundred bodies littered the intersection where they had fallen throughout the long and multi-stage battle. Removing his helmet for a time, he saw to restoring as many of the systems as he could, the damage was not incredibly extensive, he could not restore the visor functions on the right but he did get his comlink back online and a link to command established. He strode over to Cain, who was organising weapon collection or destruction and the aid effort for the wounded. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon reached the Sergeant who turned and regarded him, face hidden but concern evident.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Draken, you’re alive” he said, as if not believing his own words.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]As if remembering that he did have other responsibilities he quickly continued, pushing aside the image of Pharazon lying still next to the horrific Klatooinian, “All rebels based on your estimates before we attacked are accounted for among the dead, I have ordered the destruction of our fallen weapons, the retrieval of their powerpacks and the medic is already at work without my prompting” the professional Sergeant reported.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Good” Pharazon replied simply, voice almost gone, throat and mouth bone dry.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“What is Private Scorpio’s status” Pharazon said, voice suddenly cold.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Cain shuffled uncomfortably on his feet, briefly looking over to a small huddle of Stormtroopers. Pharazon asked again, more forcefully this time, forcing his voice to work “What is his status Sergeant Cain!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Cain’s head slumped ever so slightly before his discipline reasserted himself. “Killed in action, sir” Cain responded, voice resigned. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]One Stormtrooper from the group, Cain’s flametrooper, Scorpio’s twin brother so had it, Corporal Scorpio, looked over at Pharazon and commed them. “You did what you had to do sir, and he obeyed willingly, I will not have you worried of my feelings toward you, not after all you have done for us this day”[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] the man said, voice hinting at that same eccentricities of his brother, if currently subdued.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“What is Temporary Sergeant Sandalphon’s status?” Pharazon asked next, remaining completely still and ramrod straight.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Unknown sir, we saw the speeder’s destruction but per your orders we were to attack immediately” Cain responded again, voice now his characteristic cool and confident professionalism that so endeared him to Pharazon.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon nodded, turning his back on Cain and began to move down the street toward the former speeder emplacement. [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]“Secure the wounded, record the dead and forward a initial combat report to my helmet”[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] he said, not waiting for a response as he broke into a limping jog.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He soon came along the sight he knew he would see, Sandalphon’s still body upon the pavement, covered in rubble and blood. But it moved, and groaned. Pharazon stumbled as fast as he could toward his new protege. Kneeling down beside him he took stock of his injuries, broken bones, heavily damaged armour, mangled effectively destroyed left leg. He was lying in a pool of his own accumulating blood. Pharazon could not let this happen.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Grabbing the young Stormtrooper, Pharazon made ready to pick him up in a fireman’s carry. “Stay with me Sandalphon, you do not have my permission to die” he sobbed into Sandalphon’s helmeted face.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Securing him on his back after doing what he could to stem his leg's bleeding, Pharazon rushed back into the intersection with him, his men and Cain stared as their barely walking and still bleeding Lieutenant carried their horrifically wounded brother to a makeshift wounded area they had set up on the side of one of the intersection’s lanes. He placed his down incredibly carefully.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Sir by protocol I should treat you first…” the medic began, Pharazon swiftly turned his head and glowered at the man. The medic could see from Pharazon’s exposed eye the extreme lack of patience for what he was likely considering insubordination at this time.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Certainly sir, I cannot do much but I can seal his leg… stump and make him ready for transport” the little man said, voice falling into muttering after his assent to Pharazon’s unworded order.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Walking back out into the intersection, Pharazon saw to the establishment of a temporary perimeter as his wounded soldier’s immediate trauma needs were met. Additionally, he reformed his platoon into three squads, two full and one half full. He then looked over to check the alien again.... The beast was gone. He looked around with all remaining visor settings and led multiple searches in the surrounded ruins but they could not find the slaver. Pharazon’s thoughts descended into incomprehensible rage but his body could no longer keep up.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Some time later, after the wounded were no longer in immediate danger and could be moved, Pharazon knew what he had to do. He had received and reviewed Cain’s casualty reports, the 4th Platoon of the 189th Company had 27 combat effective and non-mortally wounded troopers remaining after the return of Cain. 20 Stormtroopers were confirmed KIA, and 3 troopers, including Sandalphon were seriously wounded and would die if not properly cared for. He uploaded the casualty and action report to the command net, grief and guilt building within him that he was trying to brutally repress. Pharazon knew he needed to move and had no time for sadness and indecision, he also had an uncomfortable order to give…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He keyed his platoon com,[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] “We are no longer combative effective, we will evacuate the ruins and link up with a friendly unit or a forward operating base to treat the wounded, resupply, and receive new orders”[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] He said firmly and simply.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“No wounded man is to be left behind, those who can walk must do those, those who can still fight must do so, set up the stretcher lift for the two most seriously wounded” he continued.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“The dead are to be left on the field, I have logged their positions and identification, we will return for them and bring them home, but we cannot take the chance of being ambushed again, I need every blaster and capable trooper free from encumbrance”[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] he said, voice and demeanor brooking no dissent. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]But there was none, his assembled me simply nodded and set about helping their brothers to their feet, checking their weapons and preparing themselves physically and mentally to move once again.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Cain commed Pharazon, “What of Sandalphon, he cannot walk sir” he asked, concerned.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon walked over to the still but breathing Sandalphon and knelt down beside him.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Pharazon commed back, “I will take him” and he hoisted him back onto his back in a fireman's carry. He had given almost everything for Pharazon, so Pharazon felt he could at least do this for his young trooper.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]4th Platoon set off in an orderly jog out of the intersection, sun at their backs, ravaged and bloodied, bodies of friends and brothers lying behind them, among the mass of rebels. They were bloodied and brutalised, but they were not broken, they had snatched a victory against all odds, they had annihilated a potentially devastating GA rebel operation behind First Order lines. They had survived.[/SIZE]

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Allies: [member='Darth Veles'], [member='Isla Ashen'], [member='Arlen Rossi']
Enemies: [member='Kira Vaal'], [member='Ryan Korr'], [member='Elincia Alanis'], [member='Kaida Taldir'], [member='Aeda Shaytari'], [member='Six-O'], [member='Kiyron'], [member='Taryc Ap'Irae'], [member='Ghorumgash Khazund-Veranum']

Holding up the building required all Kaalia had in her, she felt the building crack and move, but the redhead would not allow it to fall. Together with her fellow Ren Isla Ashen they resisted the pulling that tried to convince the structure to come tumbling down. Shots were fired by the snipers and the enemy that she could not see, when one of the allied snipers slumped to the floor lifelessly. Shot in the head. Feeling a similar sensation as she did before, fear overcame her, due to both the body that now lied down on the roof and a nagging feeling that started eating away at her. "Did Lynn..." escaped her lips. She prayed nothing bad happened, despite her worst fears.

A sphere made its way to the rooftop. As it landed with a few bounces, it was clear that a grenade lied in front of them. Kaalia's eyes opened wide, panic written all over her face. The remaining sniper flashed across her eyesight, jumping towards the grenade to form a shield around with his own body. The explosion caused blood and guts to fly everywhere, only adding to the young woman's current state of distress.

It was then when Darth Veles jumped down from the tower onto the roof. He had the rebel Kaalia saw earlier flung around his shoulder, but there was no sight of Lynn. There was little doubt left in her mind, expectiing the worst. She couldn't cry, there was nothing left but anger left. Anger towards the one responsible for Lynn's sure death, towards herself for not being able to stop it, towards the Galactic Alliance for doing nothing but bring devastation to this planet.

Everything that happened in the small amount of time was too much for the young woman. War was hell, and she was in the middle of it. The presence of the Dark side gathered around her more intensely than ever before, feeling nothing but anger and hatred. Kaalia would not leave Kaeshana the same way she arrived. Her expression would be extremely unsettling for people that weren't adept in the Dark side. It was only then when the flame-haired woman shed a single tear before sending out a strong but short-lived yell as she channeled all of her emotions to bolster the Ren's effort to protect the building they were on.

 

[Judah Lesan Jr.]

Somewhere near Santaissa
Allies: GA
Enemies: [member="Zmej Ren"]
Gear: Lightsaber, Basic battle armor, DL-44

JJ suddenly was keenly aware of the absence of fear. With all the fighting buzzing around him, and the battle which he was about to pursue, he felt at peace. That should have alarmed him or given him confidence, but it did neither. As he advanced in the diection of the Ren, Judah focused on the violence which she exuded. The disciple was no differen than the sith he had killed. All the conversations he had to deal with his first kill flooded back to his mind. If JJ killed today it would not be his choice, but an act his opponent would choose.

"Don't be so overconfident yet. This isn't my first battle and it will not be my last," he responded.

Judah stood at the ready knowing it was in the nature of dark side users to attack without warning. The guardian was a student of various forms, and so he could learn her style, JJ opted to keep his combat simple for now. The principles of Shii-Cho would be enough to allow him to assess her skill. It was the most basic of forms, deadly by those who mastered it.

The girl lunged forward, a distraction coming. Judah's counter would suffice as he brought his blade down onto the left side of the pike. Swinging upward, he pushed it out of the way and moved cut the woman down her left shoulder diagonally through to her hip. JJ hoped she would defend, because he was not looking for a quick fight.

 

[Kuzo]

Kaeshana
​South of Santaissa
Allies: FO
​Enemies: Creators of the Force Storm
[member="Vexen"] [member="Micah Talith"]

Her hearing was recovering faster than the rest of her, so that was something at least.

Calming down and getting to work was a thing Irajah did.... when other people were injured. This was different- and a lot harder. She grit her teeth, grimacing as she tried to shift. Any other time, his joke would have gotten a better reaction than an 'are you totally serious right now?' kind of look. But the rest of his words matched up with what she was experiencing right now.

She tried to focus on finding the internal bleeds- if they were small, she might be able to fix them herself. But these were nothing like the tiny bleeds caused by moving the virus around. And she simply didn't have the training to know how to cope with them.

"I'll do my best not to hit you," she affirmed, wincing as she tried to sit up. She knew she shouldn't try to move, but she couldn't help it. She eyed him, then Vexen for a moment. "My name is Doctor Ven," she said, as clearly as possible. She didn't know exactly what was happening here, or who these people were. "So yeah, I'd appreciate a medic, and I'll try not to meddle too hard." She meant in her own care of course. The joke fell flat.

 

[Darth Veles]

[SIZE=10pt]Satanissa, comm tower[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]With: [member="Isla Ashen"], [member="Kaalia Voldaren"], [member="Arlen Rossi"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]Against: [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Elincia Alanis"], [member="Kaida Taldir"], [member="Aeda Shaytari"], [member="Six-O"], [member="Kiyron"], [member="Ghorumgash Khazund-Veranum"][/SIZE]


[SIZE=10pt]They did not really have another choice than to hold on – and hope reinforcements arrived in time, for the enemy siege was proving victorious somewhere down below, the sound of blaster fire slowly dying out. Like the Ren duo, their Sith ally continued to resist, minds doing the opposite of their opponents. Probably due to his sheer concentration, the Sith lord had failed to notice another’s arrival onto the roof.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]The Jedi’s voice appeared out of nowhere, alongside its owner, finally alerting Darth Veles to his presence. He just stood there, suddenly, and it would have caught the Sith lord off guard entirely if not sub-consciously sensing the man through the Force. His grip on his prisoner tightened, unwilling to let go of such valuable captive, knowing her to be their ticket out. Perhaps it was time to juggle with another life in a Jedi-driven bargain, the loser of their previous round now being the victim. Once more, the deadly wheel started to spin and weave another tale; the rebel’s unconscious mind could only hope for it to have a different ending, one that did not spray blood over its contestants.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“I don’t think so,”[/SIZE][SIZE=10pt] the Dark lord refused, [/SIZE][SIZE=10pt]“But if you want her to live, you’ll jump off the roof and you'll do it now.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]His voice carried a strange calmness, perhaps accented by the Sith lord’s stone cold expression.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]To further make a point, the eternally sharp wrist blade from earlier appeared, its edge danherously close to the knocked out Jedi’s throat. While their order has proven to not care about civilians, perhaps they wished to save one of their own, and so they had a chance lest they wanted to sacrifice this Jedi as well. Of course, counting on Jedi to save lives was like swallowing poison and hoping it to be harmless, thus the Sith lord offered a bit more incentive. His hand opened up in a palm – and instead of reinforcing the entire roof, his focus left out the part beneath the Jedi’s feet to its own vices. It became a weak spot, immediately a victim to the unnatural currents of the Force that pressed both up and down save this single place that was left to suffer alone, torn and pulled down by the attackers.[/SIZE]

 

[Vexen]

[member="Irajah Ven"] [member="Micah Talith"]

Vexen cocked her head to one side. Her left ear stayed up whilst the right flattened down.

"You can hit 'im a little," she said. "Trust me, sometimes it helps."

Just as Irajah had been unable to mask the pain in her voice, Vexen was unable to hide the concern in her sarcasm. Goggles turned back and forth from Micah to the young doctor. The comm-link on her wrist beeped.

"Theres a troops transport coming down a few hundred metres away, we can ride it back to the FOB."

 

[Dish]

Location: Trenches
Objective: Continue fighting
Status: Ow
Allies: The GA
Enemies: The FO, [member="BE-183"]

In an instant a blaster bold caught his injury once again, searing pain roaring through his body. He bent froward reflexively, conveniently shifting himself so that the blasts caught his more armored sections. With the pain came anger, and with his anger came resolve. Throwing the vibroknife with deadly accuracy, the blade went right for BE's weapon hand, though with the angle he threw it, the weapon was just as likely to be struck. For a moment Dish would've seemed foolish, to cast away his weapon in the middle of a fight was idiotic, but when he balled his hand into a fist, and a blade extended from his right gauntlet with a shink it all made much more sense.

Covering the wound with a hand and lowering his shoulder Dish bolted forward at a blinding speed aiming to bring down the blade into her chest. Of course he was aiming to kill, but the pain from the blast wound threw off his precision, and if the lightning quick strike landed, it would more than likely be nonlethal with proper attention, but it would hurt like hell, kinda like a blaster bolt.

Left and right alliance troops fell to Zero, but the man would only have the briefest warning in the form of the glint of a scope before a blue bolt of energy rushed towards his skull. Both sides had misconceptions about the others, the Alliance troops saw the Stormtroopers as mindless drones incapable of intelligent battle, and the Stormtroopers saw the Alliance and Rebels as spineless cowards with severely inferior training or resolve. Both parties were wrong, and today was showcasing that. Other alliance soldiers took up positions and opened fire, letting off suppressing fire and then pulling themselves back into cover. Even after the bombing and constant beating, the troops resolve was untarnished.

 

[Kaida Taldir]

Location: Santaissa
Enemies: [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Isla Ashen"], [member="Kaalia Voldaren"], [member="Arlen Rossi"]
Allies: [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Six-O"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Kiyron"]


Kaida was not concerned about strafing runs. Given the raging blizzard, it would be all but impossible to target with precision. Especially since the Alliance forces were so close to the First Order's that the latter would risk hitting their own troops. The raging winds would make aerial transport hazardous.


But there were other variables to consider now. The telekinetic pressure upon the roof the Ren had sought refuge on ceased in the face of stiffening resistance. Instead, the Seraph quickly made her way to the building, trusting her officers to carry on the job on the ground. The Force wrapped itself around her like a cloak, minimising her Force Signature, silencing her step and masking her approach to a degree as she turned invisible.


Her Sciia was her guide as she made her way up the steps, like a cold, icy wind of wroth. She could hear noise coming from upstairs, words being spoken, so she picked up the pace. She felt strong presences that radiated darkness, and one that felt like a beacon of light, though Kaida would've probably not used these terms since she did not subscribe to Jedi or Sith beliefs.


A set of stairs greeted the armoured Eldorai and she moved up. Up upon the battered roof there was a standoff. A Mon Cal with a dark presence had a hostage, with a wrist knife dangerously close to her throat, and with two Ren confederates nearby. Beneath her phrik helmet, her eyes took in the three hostiles, the Jedi and the apparent captive.


Dilemma situation? Not for the Angelii. If this were Mass Effect, she'd have a Renegade score. No words left her lips. Her cloak was dissipated and she reached out with her power and unleashed her cryomancy upon the Sith. She channelled her power through one hand, whilst the other held a lightsabre that glowed with a yellow light.


Rather than trying to freeze Veles entirely, which was a far more daunting prospect, she focused upon the hand that held the knife and the weapon itself. She poured her willpower into the act, willing layers upon layers of thick ice to encase both so that the hand and weapon would be immobilised. Of course, he might be able to resist the attack, but that would split his concentration.

 

[Zmej Ren]

[SIZE=10pt]Somewhere near Santaissa[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]Allies: FO[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]Enemies: [member="Judah Lesan Jr."][/SIZE]
Gear: [SIZE=10pt]Armourhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/68540-fo-01-stormtrooper-armour/, [/SIZE][SIZE=10pt]baton[/SIZE][SIZE=10pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=10pt]gun[/SIZE]


[SIZE=10pt]A blinding, emerald flash arced through the air as the Jedi’s green blade pushed her strike aside, indicating the lightsaber-wielding opponent had enough training and experience to not be fooled by a simple feint. After making contact, Zmej’s silver shaft clearly showed a dark, scorched mark where it’d been hit – revealing the young Ren’s weapon bore little lightsaber resistance. It was sturdy enough to survive one slash without breaking, but putting it to another test would inevitably lead to being disarmed. This, and the fact her opponent charged her like an angry animal clearly spoke against the pike’s efficiency in the current situation – still, once her attack ended in failure, Zmej immediately pulled it back, reducing its intimidating length and turning its end into a short range stabbing weapon.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Her ears heard the deadly whizz when it came slashing down, hands barely fast enough to raise the pike’s end and catch the strike while simultaneously taking a decisive step back to get herself from the energy blade's reach. As expected, the pike did not survive an extended contact with superheated plasma and became useless – the sight of molten metal dripping down the shaft further reinforced Zmej’s desire to defeat the Jedi and claim his laser sword. Not only as a trophy, a proof of her success; the Ren wanted a new weapon, something to use before building her own, personalized blade.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Fuelled and driven by aggression, positively leeching on the dark side’s well of power, the teenager gave her body a momentary boost. Another jump back to increase the distance between them, this time accompanied by the Ren discarding the useless pike by launching it via the Force at her opponent’s torso in a telekinetic push sent his way, just to keep the armoured man back long enough for her free hand to reach down and seize the last tool capable of beating the Jedi. The baton’s magnatomic adhesion grip practically jumped into her hand, eager to battle a lightsaber. It crackled, light blue sparks racing across its vanes as Zmej spun it around, offering her opponent an invitation to come forth.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]

[/SIZE]​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Near the Citadel of Dawn
Enemies: [member="Charlyra Araano"] and [member="Trextan Voidstalker"]
Allies: FO

Kyrel was growing tired of the duel by the minute. He had to deal with the boy on one hand, which was becoming tiresome as it is even using the dark side was taking a toll on him. Than he had to deal with a girl who was so immensely powerful in the force, which in a way terribly frightened him. He had to mind his surroundings closely as he had one behind him, and the other in the front. He kept getting pressed from both sides still falling back on Soresu. From what he could sense the boy was also growing tired as well, and that was pleasing him, but so far he had been lucky to avoid his strikes so far, but if the fight kept going at the current rate it was he would not last long.

He laughed upon hearing the boy's words on how this was war, he found the comment ironic as in between his attempted counters he said in a tone that sounded slightly amused as if hearing a joke. "Really, We did not want this yet your pathetic alliance attacked innocent scientists and aides, killing hundreds if not more. You think you are all self righteous because we are Imperials, and that somehow gives you justification to attack us. But tell me this who are the real bad guys hmmmmm? We were just helping these poor people deal with the scum of the world, and providing peace to it, yet your warmongering brought death to this world. That is not how the good guys work is it. Pity I would have rather faced someone with more honer than this." What he was speaking was the truth, but he was also trying to employ Dun Moch as well mocking his enemy to gain the upper hand in the fight. He attempted to sidestep his next attack rather than face it head on, he would rather focus the rest of his strength on taking out on opponent than both at once.

He looked at the girl, eyeing her as his next target. He did not care for her mantra, as he only focused on destroying her, and than the boy later. He than replied scornfully. "I am Kyrel Ren, Emissary of the Supreme Leader, and heir to Vader's Legacy, and I will destroy you." His saber was than wrenched from her grasp, and he quickly pulled it back to him. With a snap hiss the blade activated once more, and the blade glowed a fiery unstable red. He glared at her with deadly intent, intent on cutting her down and thanks to his power attacks her armor was all for naught.

He rushed at her drawing upon the energy he had to increase his speed. He than attempted with lightning speed to resume his Djem So power attacks. He quickly attempted to overwhelm her, and seeing how she had little to no armor this provided the Ren with an opportunity. He attempted to large swings and chops, overwhelming her and allowing him enough time to provide his blow that would cripple her. After several minutes he brutally impaled her through the stomach, and grinned as this could be the chance he needed to give him some breathing room, and salvage the fight.

 

[Six-O]

Location: Santaissa
Objective: Skirmish, Harass, Exterminate
Allies: [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member="HK-36"], [member="Tempest"], [member="Aeron Kreelan"], [member="Michael Sardun"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Ryan Korr"]
Enemies: [member="Isla Ashen"], [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Kaalia Voldaren"], [member="Arlen Rossi"], First Order
Equipment: Gorgon Web Rifle, Magnetic Reaper, 3 Eater Grenades, On-Board Weapons Systems
Forces: Dreadwind

"Whatchu gonna do, girlie?!" the voice goaded with grating frequency. "Yeah, come on and get it!"

A Stormtrooper tossed knife from one hand to the other, flicking his grip position quite theatrically with feint lunges and half-slashes. Maintaining a safe isolation between himself and the Agent.

"Ooooh, little boy. . I'm not even going to record you in my report." Retorted Dreadwind, her right hand closed in tight fist around the end of her torch light. This make-shift club was the only weapon left. But don't worry, she knew a hundred ways to kill a man with less. "No, baby, you're gonna be a freebie." She returned taunt, in kind.

Her cloak had been abandoned, despite the arctic bite that trembled her bones. Her knuckles and fingers bled, ragged from the frosty vengeance of the Ice Queen, [member="Kaida Taldir"]. Tears of crimson weeping even from the cracks that split her blue lips and glacial features. She already shuddered at what the aftermath of this battle was going to be like. Perhaps she could petition her superiors to send her to warmer Worlds in the future.

The Stormtrooper falsely lunged once more towards her, half-heartedly prodding with the knife. Dreadwind read him in perfect time, he'd let her analyze his rhythm while he danced his pointless theatrics. Another pinnacle pioneer of the First Order Battle Standard.

As he advanced behind the jab of his blade, Zylaana bounced with thoughtful agility on her toes, bounding to her right as he tried to pull out of the ruse, acutely aware of his own folly, with an overhead cleave the SIS Agent bluntly cracked the Stormtrooper's wrist with the head of her flashlight, clubbing knife from grip.

"Gah!" the 'Trooper yelled painfully, his legs buckling beneath his weight as his feet stuttered from the sudden shock and agony that burned through his arm.

"Rrghh!" Dreadwind, using momentum and the strength of her powerful, tight, core and hips, to thunder her left boot in to the mans chest plate with dull thump of thick rubber sole to the plastic plating.

He took both blows at full impact, his whole arm buzzing as his stance came completely undone and he sank down to the floor backwards. Landing with such ferocity that the floor creaked and cried from the impact. But life yet clutched true in his breast, for how much longer that was the question. Dreadwind was not kind to those that would oppose her and the Mission she was tasked with. She had striven for nothing short of a service record that would lead her to the position of Director, one day.

As a specter of death she lunged with two galloping strides towards him, chasing forward with right leg first, then fluidly shifting from light toes, to her left leg. With the grace of a feline, she swung an arching chop with the hand torch. Using weight and gravity to boost the strength of her rotating attack substantially.

CRACK!!!!

"Grrrrrraaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Stormtrooper cried suddenly, his body rising up into seated position. Eyes wide behind his helmet as he stared on in horror at the current state of his forearm.

The blow had landed with such flush force that arm folded downwards with the strike. What was left, was a limb that excruciatingly curved from an inch beyond elbow to a very horrifyingly acute angle. As the man scream with modulated terror and diabolically unimaginable pain, his body writhed with spasms as bowels released and he was sat simply howling in his own filth and retch.

Dreadwind had no intention of stopping her murderous assault, she was trained to kill. All her life this is what she had been. Since a girl. She fought, she killed. One Sith Intelligence had utilized her to astonishing success, especially with her work and help in the terrible attacks against Roxuli and the Mining Guild there. Now she was the perfect tool for the Strategic Information Service, results. That's what she gave.

The flashlight had broken from the sheer abuse the simple device shaft sustained during the assault. The LED lense-head of the tool snapped apart as if it had been little else than a frail twig, it whined across the floor, bouncing twice before settling in to a spinning dance that swung it wildly in to the nearby wall.

She'd already reared backwards for a second attack. Half-twisting her body for just the most perfect amount of torque she could feed in to it with such short chance to prepare. With a twist in her hips and a stretch over her left shoulder she had made to bat the helmet and head clean off his poor shoulders. But she caught nothing but the front of his facial plating, scraping with the end of the now significantly shorter, and less deadly flashlight.

It loosened from her grasp, achieving full release but a slight tick later, gliding off through a section of wall that had fallen some time ago, probably around, or shortly after, the asteroid impact.

As a mighty Tigress she swung around with mind slaughtering conviction to haste. The floor vanished from beneath her feet, her body melting around him as if Tigress suddenly denatured in to a titanic Constrictor Snake. Legs latched under arm and around neck, tying the man securely with a triangle choke that grasped him seemingly from some foul shady ether.

Dreadwind knew, with his helmet, she'd never choke off his blood badly enough to render him unconscious, so she skipped the subtle approach of pressure between neck and shoulder from strong legs and sure hips. Her fingers, damp with blood that offered no warmth, clung to the chin divot of the mans facial plate. Hard she pulled backwards, fierce as she could muster.

He grunted, trying to use his only functioning arm to first fight at Zylaana's legs before instead trying to pry her fingers from his mask.

Harder she pulled.

Tighter she clutched with firm legs.

Laggardly did the woman start arching her back, pressing down with sluggish direction on the mans shoulders as she really began to apply a steady heave upon the helmet.

"Nnnnnnnrrrrhhhhaaaaaphh!" He buzzed from one pitch to the other until the base of his head finally snapped free of the spine. Dead for free.

The 220 SIG was obtained, finally, she was making progress back towards the Communications Tower.

[member="Isla Ashen"] | [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] | [member="Darth Veles"]

Astonished, one could claim the Droid to be. The roof still stood, the Red Knights of Ren yet clung to this whole big drama of living a false existence in the great black ether of the Far Away Nothing. That all-consuming dark. Perhaps those statements about Red Heads and the flames they hold were true after all? No. Six-O knew better than to listen to Spacer Talk. . . but he had been lost to Otherspace. . . He couldn't allow this to go on. Best not to take the risk of some untimely Cosmic karma befalling him, again.

[member="Darth Veles"] was throwing sparks to sky, blue tendrils of crackling whips. Luckily the jagged lattice, that had been meant to disable and destroy his internal machinations, just barely fell short. He was of high angle with elevated distance, the perfect safety net to neutralize Force-Users with more ease than generally was required when engaged with the War Waging Wizards.

Not that Six-O, himself, was not a War Waging Widget.

Snow steamed under the snapping heat and raspy wail of sparking whip. Duracrete rendered to molten glass that cool rapidly and cracked to dust. The Droid was on the move, large strides lunging him over lofty rise. With the revolving whir of rotors, motors and servos the Droid leaned back in to an attack position, far to a flank of the building. From here he could see where [member="Isla Ashen"] clung for cover.


She would be his first course of action.

Rifle did not even need to tuck in to fire position. From extended arm, and single grasping claw, the Droid honed in his weapon.

Her knee, the left one, his calculations began plotting for.

Before another second ticked, a pellet coughed from the Magnetic Reaper Rifle. A hyper velocity projectile that would race forward for the Ren before it's sound would even birth, she had witnessed the grotesque carnage it wrought once, now she would experience the throe firsthand.

Six-O had finished calculating, the attack seemed on course for entering above left knee, low of mid-thigh, and exiting right calf, barely above the ankle. Or, at least, which ever gushing stomps of kicking flesh they would be in the aftermath.

 

[Judah Lesan Jr.]

Somewhere near Santaissa
Allies: GA
Enemies: [member="Zmej Ren"]
Gear: Lightsaber, Basic battle armor, DL-44

The pike had proven to be no match for Judah's lightsaber, but all he had accomplished was to anger the Ren. It was a mistake as dark siders drew strength from their anger, but a lesson JJ had been taught by his father, Judah, was that the one who go angry first had already lost. If the young padawan could keep his center, keep his cool, then the battle was already his. Of course, he had never really tested that theory. Perhaps a peace offering. No one had to die today, not in his estimation.

As he was about to reach out the girl distanced herself. She had drawn on the force to do so, and while her retreat was impressive, it was clear he was the more experienced of the two. Judah had nothing to prove, and she did. That made his opponent dangerous. JJ needed to ensure that he would not underestimate her. The pieces of the pike which were left had been shot in his direction. A simple flick of his wrist sent them into the neck of a trooper that tried to sneak up on his left flank. A soft thud was heard as Judah smiled at the irony.

"Your skills are impressive, but truly are wasted with so much destruction. No one has to die today, but I won't hesitate if you force the issue. Tell me, have you killed a force user before, because I have."

Judah stood his ground. If the fight was something she wanted, the girl could attack. She had something to prove, and Judah could take the defensive position until he knew her style well enough to break it apart for a weakness.

 

[Joza Perl]

Location: Citadel of Dawn
Objective: Engage Asharad
Allies: Galactic Aliance, Tygaran Alliance, TKO
Enemies: FO
Forces: 340/400 TKO Marines with Magnetic Repeaters and Handheld Shattergun Rotary Cannons, 15/24 snipers in the eastern mountains in Nexu Armor with standard sniper rifles, 3 moving towards the North

Joza’s arm had been indeed been raised upwards to field the weight and force of [member="Asharad Graush"]’s headbutt, but the collision caused the shield to flicker and she thought it best to deactivate the device once she felt the pressure of his helmet cede.

Her lightsaber raked across the Sith’s right flank just as his knee rose sharply and his elbow dropped down heavily to pincer her wrist between the two joints. Her strike had been largely unsuccessful, and despite the fact that she seemed to have widened the breach in his armor, he showed no signs of pain. Given this fact her arm was pulling away from his side when he’d sandwiched her hand between the two joints. It hurt like a motherkarker and there’d be bruising for sure, but she’d slipped past any potential bone crushing effects by rotating her wrist away from the awkward vice. She’d barely had enough time to parry his saber with their positioning before it seared into her armor and possibly her flesh, opting to swat the golden beam upwards instead of to the side.

Her right arm lifted during the parry, palm out towards his chest as she channeled the Force outwards in a sudden, point-blank violent push. He was on one leg, and she’d redirected his saber upwards—two factors that would unbalance him. There was also the heavier armor to factor into the equation. Still, she did not come out unscathed, the Sith’s lightsaber scoring a thin trail up her chest as she overestimated the distance it took to parry safely. The sudden trauma to her wrist had caused her grip on the saber to slacken, and it was quickly re-established to a lesser degree giving her less control over the parry. Everything had its price.

--

[member="HK-36"] and [member="Ludolf Vaas"]

Ivan flickered in and out of a vague state of consciousness, unaware that he was in the protective arms of his Greycloak savior. All he knew was that there was a war, he was somehow moving, and possibly not dead. Later, he’d have to thank the droid for shielding him form a hail of enemy fire that would have ended his life. Right now though, his mind slipped back into darkness as he was unloaded on a handful of Marines who’d been flanking the snipers on their way up into the mountains, a medic among them. They Greycloak would now be unburdened of the unconscious Corellian pilot.

“You idiot! Look! He’s already too far into the enemy lines to get a clear shot!”

A common misconception about Zeltrons is that they were always cheerful flirty creatures. While they could be by and large due to the pheromones, Zeltrons were actually really emotional creatures. Seeing as how they’d missed their mark, the primary emotion among the trio of snipers was frustration.

“Oh my god, shut up Florence. Like, you wouldn’t have been able to hit him if you had him up against a wall. Besides, there's like TIE fighters and stuff.”

“I’d sure like to have him up against a wall. Besides, he’s too cute to kill!”

“He’s like, fifty years older than you.”

“I’d still do him. You know I like blondes.”

“Alright, cut the chatter. We’re moving in further which means that we have to be silent. Do you think that you two can manage that or do I have to leave you behind?”

The trio of Zeltrons promptly stopped being as giggly, switching back into work mode. They crept along the rocks, opting instead to assist the Greycloak by picking off the Stormtroopers that would potentially get in its way.

Loadout:

Spoiler

-Standard lightsaber (x2)
-Sasori Medium Armor
-Ranger Shotgun
-AI Wrist Blaster
-VT Needle Disruptor
-Tactical Fighting Blade
-Glop Grenade (x2)
-Stun Pearl (x5)